Page 7 of Fairy's Forbidden Touch
He was staring at me with a new intensity. “What else? What other ways do humans touch?”
Is he asking what I think he’s asking?
“There are… many ways. Some more intimate than others.” I cleared my throat. “Maybe we should go somewhere more private than an alley?”
He nodded immediately. “My residence is nearby. Will you come with me?”
Warning bells should have been going off—following a magical prince to his “residence” after knowing him for only two weeks seemed like exactly the kind of impulsive decision that had led to me crashing on Maya’s couch in the first place. But all I could think about was the possibility of more touching, more kissing, more of whatever this was.
“Lead the way,” I said.
Thalen’s “nearby residence” turned out to be a townhouse that seemed normal from the outside but opened into a space that couldn’t possibly fit within the building’s dimensions.The interior was spacious and elegant, decorated in the same midnight blues and silvers as his clothing, with furniture that looked beautiful but not particularly comfortable.
“Nice place,” I said inadequately, taking in the strange architecture and stranger décor—including what appeared to be a small fountain of luminescent liquid in the center of the main room.
“It serves its purpose.” He seemed suddenly uncertain, standing just inside the door. “Would you like refreshment?”
“I’m good, thanks.” I took a step closer to him. “So… more questions about touching?”
Something vulnerable flickered across his perfect features. “I have never… that is to say, I have knowledge but no practical experience with physical intimacy.”
Oh. OH.
“We can go as slow as you want,” I assured him. “Or not at all. Just talking is fine too.”
He shook his head. “I have been unable to experience touch my entire adult life. Now that I can… I don’t want to waste the opportunity.”
There was loneliness in those words that hit me harder than I expected. Whatever was happening between us, it wasn’t just curiosity or attraction for him—it was the first chance he’d had to experience something most people take for granted.
“May I remove your jacket?” he asked formally.
I nodded, standing still as he carefully pushed the leather off my shoulders. His movements were deliberate, almost reverent, as if undressing me was some kind of sacred ritual.
“The texture is interesting,” he commented, running his fingers over the worn leather.
“It’s old,” I said. “Had it for years.”
He set the jacket aside and turned back to me, eyes roaming over my t-shirt-clad torso. “May I continue?”
Is he going to ask permission for every step?I wondered, then realized—of course he would. Every touch was new territory for him.
“You can touch me however you want,” I said softly. “I’ll tell you if something doesn’t feel good.”
He nodded, then reached for the hem of my shirt, carefully lifting it. His cool fingers brushed against my stomach, causing the muscles there to jump.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked immediately.
“No, just ticklish. Sensitive.”
His expression turned curious, and he deliberately traced his fingers over the same spot, watching my reaction. I tried not to squirm.
“Fascinating,” he murmured.
With careful movements, he lifted my shirt higher, and I raised my arms to help him remove it completely. His eyes widened as he took in my bare chest.
“You are… very different from me,” he observed, reaching out to touch the light dusting of hair between my pectorals.
“How so?”
